


Rooftops

by donotjustlive_fly



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Athena is Griffon’s crew, Burnie is Cockbite, Character Study, F/M, Fake AH Crew, Fluff, GTA V AU, Genderbending, Griffon is G, M/M, Michael Swears, Michael and Lindsay know Morse Code, Multi, Polyamory, Ryan knows astronomy for some reason, Slice of Life, because why not, fem!Jack, implied/hinted at OT6, really they’re all just too comfortable with each other so personal bubbles don’t exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 01:32:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4768526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donotjustlive_fly/pseuds/donotjustlive_fly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theirs is a dangerous business, full of shouting and explosions and high-speed chases, and as their success-high bodies begin a post-heist crash, burns and scrapes and other wounds painfully take up their heartbeats. Regardless, they wouldn't have it any other way. They are most comfortable when racing headlong toward death, and the fact that one day they'll catch up goes unspoken- instead they exist one moment at a time, breaking up the insanity with a shared smoke as they count the stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rooftops

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve missed you guys. My ability to write has sort of died- in part due to just a lack of time. I moved into an apartment with my Brookie and D a few weeks ago and just started back at uni yesterday, so unfortunately I’m probably going to be off the radar for a while longer. I promise I’ll still write when I’m able and won’t disappear entirely.
> 
> Anyway, I’ve been working on this little fic on and off for a while now- it started off as a standalone, briefly crossed into being part of the “This is the Road...” universe, and now exists somewhere in between. I’m terribly fond of it, and hope you all enjoy as well!
> 
> I didn’t get this beta’d by Brookie because she’s just as busy as I am and I was too excited to wait, so any errors are my own and I apologize for them. Nonetheless, all the love and appreciation is to be sent in her direction because she deals with my random outbursts and babbling.

* * *

They're sprawled out on the roof of their favorite safe house, hair brushing and adrenalin-seared bodies spread out in a messy starburst from the central point where their heads are all tucked together, a cigarette being passed from hand to hand- Geoff to Jack to Ryan to Ray to Michael to Gavin to Geoff again. Ray leans his head against the man's beside him just hard enough to feel the flutter of his pulse, faint between their temples, and attempts to relearn to breathe, syncing up to the soft whisper of oxygen exchange surrounding him.

Rough fingers bump gently against his own in offering but he shakes his head slightly, going to take the paper-wrapped tobacco to pass on; a soft noise of confusion escapes him involuntarily as Ryan keeps it and takes another drag. The younger man blinks in surprise as he suddenly has a broad-shouldered figure hovering over him, only having a split-second to take a breath in preparation of a question before chapped lips press to his own, demanding and unrelenting. His mouth falls open automatically with the force, and he nearly chokes as a lungful of smoke is suddenly being breathed into him; a part of him cracks as the gesture registers, and he fists a hand in slightly sweaty blond hair to deepen the kiss, tongue hungrily seeking out further reassurance that they were still alive.

By the time Ryan returns to his reclined position, a smaller hand tightly twined with his and the man it belonged to panting slightly but far calmer, the cigarette has made another circuit around the circle. He takes another blissful drag, savoring the scratchy heat burning along his insides as he passes it across Ray to an amused Michael.

Theirs is a dangerous business, full of shouting and explosions and high-speed chases, and as their success-high bodies begin a post-heist crash, burns and scrapes and other wounds painfully take up their heartbeats. Regardless, they wouldn't have it any other way. They are most comfortable when racing headlong toward death, and the fact that one day they'll catch up goes unspoken- instead they exist one moment at a time, breaking up the insanity with a shared smoke as they count the stars.

\-------

Ray finds himself alone on the roof, the world around him pitch black except the faint glow from the blanket of stars spread out above him and the flickering of the bonfire creeping over the gutters from the yard. He half-listens to the familiar blur of voices below as his crew, giddy and reckless from a narrowly successful heist, roasts marshmallows and other miscellaneous food over the flames. His own mind is blissfully quiet from the same natural high. Dark eyes roam aimlessly across the sky, trying to pick out the constellations Ryan had begun trying to teach them, then dart to the side as a dark shadow suddenly hauls itself over the edge of the roof. He relaxes immediately as a pair of familiar blue eyes catches a stray flicker of light, patting the shingles beside him before refolding his hands across his stomach.

“I thought I’d find you up here. Everything alright, kid?” Something unwinds further in his chest as Ryan’s warmth spreads along his side, and his eyes fall closed, melting bonelessly.

“Mm. Yeah, I’m fine Ry. Just winding down. You know how it goes, old man.” There’s a low chuckle and rough fingers ghosting lightly over his wrist; his head rolls slightly on a loose neck so he can slit his eyes and peer at his companion with lazy curiosity.

“You young’uns. The grandpas of the group should be the first ones to crash after a night like tonight. Gav and Michael are fighting to stay awake downstairs- Geoff said whoever passes out first is going to have their hand dunked in warm water in their sleep and they’re both going to lose.”

“First- why do you think I’m hiding out up here? Second- I’m not tired, I’m the exact opposite of tired, if anything I’m trying to _get_ tired. It was a good night, but let me tell you, man, I’m hyped. There’s no way in hell I’m falling asleep tonight.” Their fingers twine naturally, neither one hesitating for even a moment. Ryan brings the linked digits to his lips to brush a kiss against the back of the smaller man’s hand, hiding his smile at the content noise it elicits.

“I could help _exhaust_ you, honey.” A soft burst of laughter escapes Ray’s mouth and he wiggles his fingers away to roll over and meet the blond’s eyes more directly, propping his head up with one arm while his free palm falls to rest in the center of the other man's broad chest. Ryan grins and covers the hand with both of his own. “Seriously though. You know my bed is always open and you sleep better with another body nearby. Just say the word.” The young man grows serious for a moment, examining the face of his friend and partner-in-crime and lover, before shifting around to lay back down and rest his head on Ryan’s stomach.

“Teach me more of that astronomy stuff and we’ll see.” With a hum of assent, gentle fingertips begin carding through dark shaggy hair as Ryan traces invisible lines across the sky, voice a soothing rumble against Ray’s ear as the world fades away.

(The young man doesn't stir when Ryan carefully slips out from under him, only giving a soft grumble when he's scooped up and cradled against a warm chest. Eyes peek open with bleary confusion as he's jolted slightly in the jump down to the balcony, but he's solidly back asleep by the time the blond strips him down to boxers and tucks them both into bed. With a private smile of triumph, the older man closes his eyes to search for sleep himself, the slender body tucked against his own an easy comfort.)

\-------

"God fucking damnit, Gavin, come on!" Michael hollers over the edge of the roof, adjusting the straps for the pack and gun slung over his shoulder and rifling through pockets to be sure he has all his ammo, one eye on the horizon. "We're only gonna have a split second of land time to get in when Jack gets here- if your ass isn't on this roof we're leaving you behind and Geoff'll murder you when we get back." The only response is a disgruntled squawk followed by a spectacular series of crashes, and Michael growls lowly, raking a hand through his curls. He drops to his stomach and pokes his head over the awning. "Gavin!"

"Michael! Where's my semi-automatic? I can't leave without my semi! Did you have it in our room yesterday?" The Brit, hair a mess and for some reason only half dressed, skids out onto the balcony to stare up at him with a look of panic; the Jersey boy's lip curls in a frustrated snarl.

"You were supposed to be fucking prepared! I fucking asked you last night if you had all your shit and you insisted that you were all fucking set. 'Oooo, Micoo, all my gear is tippy-fucking-top, come play Destiny with me Micoo!' I should have fucking-" He's cut off as a nearly-visible light bulb clicks on over Gavin's head, eyes brightening with recollection.

"Oh! Michael, you're brilliant! It fell between the cushions on the couch when you tackled me after-"

"I don't fucking care just go grab the goddamn thing you _idiot_!" The lanky man trills something unintelligibly offended and dashes back inside, missing the fond look that flashes over Michael's face unbidden. The brief bout of good humor disappears immediately as he glances up to see a familiar dot rapidly approaching them in the distance, and he scowls as he scrambles back to his feet. "Put some damn pants on, shithead, Jack's coming in fast. Hurry!"

The helicopter has just barely touched down when Gavin flings himself up over the edge, tripping across the roof to where the shorter man is hanging halfway out the door; Michael catches him around his skinny waist as they lift off, hauling the bony body safely inside and almost immediately clapping him upside the head. "Ow! _Michael_!"

"Don't fucking 'Micoo' me, dumbass- why did you fucking change your clothes five minutes before the goddamn heist? We're robbing an armored truck, not going fucking clubbing." The brunette pouts and mumbles something, squirming awkwardly under the smaller body pinning him to the hard floor. "What? I don't understand fucking gibberish."

"My other pants were _dirty_ , Michael. I- when we- your- I was sticky!" He goes bright red at the predatory look of amusement that spreads across the other lad's face, all-too-aware of Jack and Kerry in the cockpit muffling laughter.

"Oh, is that what it was? You were sticky?" He ducks down to speak directly into Gavin's ear, voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "Did it occur to you that it might have been by design? You know how Geoff gets when he's jealous..."

" _Michael_..."

Jack's voice cuts through the sudden tension between them like a knife, affectionate amusement coloring her attempt at a strict tone. "Sorry to interrupt, boys, but you two need to gear up and get ready to jump. Expected arrival in T-minus two minutes." The younger redhead steals a harsh kiss before he rolls off of Gavin, chuckling at the whine he receives as he straps into his parachute.

"C'mon, m'boi, the sooner we finish this the sooner we can get back to finishing you."

"Michael! Not in front of young little Kerry!"

"I'm only a year younger than you, jerk!"

" _Focus_ , children.”

"Fuck you, Jack!"

Everyone in the helicopter winces as earpieces screech to life, Michael reflexively reaching over to steady the flailing brunette as their boss' voice cuts through the static.

"Will you dickheads quit dicking around and get ready to move like a dick out of hell? Ground team is set to blow!" Gavin mutters something about blowing loads, which causes both men to dissolve into a fit of giggles over a round of groans from the crew; their laughter trails them out of the helicopter as they leap out into open air.

\-------

He can barely see past the tip of his nose in the current downpour, but by god, he is going to keep watch for when the boss and his fellow pyro return. Michael is perched on the edge of the roof at the front of the house, gaze intent on the vague smudge that he knows is the road up from downtown, blinking rain from his lashes and resisting the urge to rip out the contacts irritating his eyes. His cell is ominously quiet and still where it's tucked in his pocket, void of any kind of contact from the thefting duo and no longer buzzing with increasingly upset texts from Gavin; the last message he'd received had been from Jack, letting him know that the younger man had finally crashed and they were cocooned in her bed when he was ready to come down.

Michael runs a hand through his sopping curls in frustration, the palm of his other hand beginning to sting where he's been digging his nails in. In theory, it was supposed to have been an easy job; a standard convenience store robbery, in and out before the engine even had time to cool. Geoff had explained it all while sprawled across the couch with his feet in Jack's lap and his hands folded behind his head, the picture of absolute relaxation. Could easily be handled by just one of them, but the boss wanted to try a new technique that would hopefully make them even more efficient during their next heist, something that would be easier with an extra threatening figure with a gun. Even Ryan, by far the most paranoid and precise member of the crew, was grinning with lazy confidence, the kiss he left on his younger partner's lips on the way out as nonchalant as if he was just making a grocery run. So what the fuck had gone wrong?

"You're going to get sick sitting out here in the rain, man." He doesn't even flinch when Ray suddenly drops down beside him, just giving a hum of acknowledgement as he continues to stare into the distance. "Keeping watch isn't going to make them come back any faster. I know you're worried about them- trust me, you're not the only one- but if we need to go on a rescue mission you'll be useless like this." That finally gets the redhead's attention, a furious glare being shot at the younger man.

"We won't need to go on a fucking rescue mission. They're fine. They just- probably got caught up somewhere and are laying low until they can get back here without cops on their ass. I'm not worried. Fuck off." The Puerto Rican folds his arms and gives him an unimpressed look in return, glasses blurred with rain.

"I know we joke about having been better friends in the past, asshole, but if you think you've gotten any better at lying to me you're dumb." Michael looks away, jaw clenched, and startles as his companion slings an arm around his shoulders to squeeze him; something cracks in his chest and he turns to bury his head hard into the other man's neck, fighting down tremors.

"It's been _hours_. Geoff would have texted by now if they had just gotten stuck somewhere. Why haven't they...? Those bastards. Those _motherfuckers_. They _have to be okay._ " They sit in the downpour for a few minutes longer, Ray staying quiet as the Jersey boy gets himself back together; he gives Michael a final squeeze and then stands up, offering a hand.

"C'mon. Let's go change into something dry and kick some 14-year-old ass at Halo."

Some time later, Michael wakes with a bleary groan as the warmth that had been sprawled across him is suddenly lifted away, cracking an eye to see a familiar, broad-shouldered silhouette with their sniper cradled in his arms. Ryan gives him a tired grin and ruffles his hair before moving away and undoubtedly heading down the hall to the bedrooms. His heart clenches with terror for a second- ' _why is he alone **where is** '_\- before tattooed hands suddenly appear from over the back of the couch and tug at him gently. He scrambles up and vaults into Geoff's arms, shaking even as his nose fills with the comforting scent of liquor and gunpowder, the rough fingers gripping at his hip and the back of his neck slowly grounding him. "You fucking bastard. You cock-sucking asshole. Where the fucking hell have you been?"

"Things- didn't exactly go as planned."

"No fucking shit, dickhead." Geoff squeezes the nape of the younger man's neck gently, nosing at fluffy curls.

"Shhh. There was a plainclothes cop in the shop- we had a fleet on us before we even got the money. We've been alternately running and hiding for hours. And…" He pauses to clear his throat and Michael draws back, eyes narrowing at the chagrined look on the other man's face. "We might've been a little cocky and decided to not check our batteries before we left. So…"

"You idiots were running around with dead phones. Fucking fantastic. You two are so fucking lucky-" He gets cut off with a rough kiss, his fury melting away with a soft moan as he clutches his boss closer and kisses back desperately. A surprised squawk erupts from the hallway and they have a split second to brace for impact before Gavin barrels into them; he gets pulled into the embrace as he buries his head into the crook of Geoff's neck, and Michael grins over his shoulder at Jack where she's leaning against the wall clothed in one of Geoff's tee's, shaking her head affectionately.

"Let's go to bed."

\-------

"May the lord Jesus guard them in daytime and at night, that... no firearms injure them, no weapons, no steel, no iron cut them, no fire burn them... nothing harm them. _Please_. Amen." The shaky prayer feels stale and foreign on his tongue, words from a past time spoken to a God he's no longer sure he believes in. But with three of the most important people in his life halfway across the world trying to sort out a 'misunderstanding' with one of their best arms dealers in Germany and himself sitting alone on a rooftop in the middle of Los Santos, he'll hedge his bets and pull whatever strings he can, whether that’s contacting old ‘family’ to watch their backs or whispering faint prayers to the smoggy sky.

Michael knocks his heels absently against the side of the apartment complex he’s perched on, dropping his gaze to take in the city still alive and bustling below, oblivious to the late hour. Cars are little more than toys zipping along roads like the paper mazes he did as a kid, people scurrying along the sidewalks and crisscrossing the street like skittish ants. An odd sensation of affection and pride swells in his chest- this is his city, _their_ city, stubborn and fierce and passionate, fearless and reckless with death nipping at their heels. Just like the family who rules over it alongside him, under the watchful eye of their intrepid leader with a deadly streak of boredom, a lust for alcohol and chaos, and a laugh that could cure the world of all ails.

A light flickers at him from the building across from him, and he glances up in time to catch the end of the Morse code message. _Lindsay_. He pulls his phone out and blinks the flashlight back at her, then frowns at her response.

_‘…holding up?’_

_‘Fine. News?’_

_’Nothing from G’s people. No news is good news.’_

He flashes an impatient goodbye then stands, brushing off his jeans and stretching his aching back. Before he can turn toward the stairs on the opposite side of the roof, he catches one more message from his friend.

_‘Get some sleep. Think there’s a spot open for you.’_

A reluctant smile tugs at his lips unbidden. _Nosy bitch_. Nonetheless, when he slips into the dark, quiet apartment and strips down to boxers to sleep in, he exits his bedroom to poke his head into the only other room that currently holds people in their home. Even as accustomed to the dark as he is, he can barely discern the lump under the covers as two separate bodies, which speaks more to how closely the pair are entwined than his abysmal eyesight. Before he can figure out how to wake the duo up without ending up with a bullet between his eyes, Ray stirs and reaches behind him to smack the mattress with exhausted impatience.

“Get in the bed, asshole, you’re creepier than Ry just standing there.” There’s a low rumble of dissent from the other man in the bed, though it appears to be more at the accusation of his own character than the prospect of Michael joining them, because he shuffles both himself and the smaller man over just enough to clear more space on the nearer side of the bed. The redhead only hesitates for another moment, then crosses the room before he can talk himself out of it, sliding under the covers with a bit of awkwardness and hovering on the very edge of the mattress. A slightly embarrassing noise of surprise escapes him when his oldest friend rolls over and drags his pliant-with-shock body closer, the slender Puerto Rican wrapping around him and tucking his head into the freckly crook of his neck, leaving Michael no choice but to wrap his arms around the subtly smaller man. He jumps again when another arm, heavy and warm with muscle, drapes over his bare waist, drawing both lads further into the safe cocoon of blankets. Blue eyes meet amber over Ray’s head, Ryan’s face far more gentle in the faint city lights leaking through the blinds than hidden behind his skull mask or covered with his trademark white-black-red paint.

“There was a phone call while you were up top. Wouldn’t tell me who it was but they said to tell you something about the ram, the lion, and the bird being out of the pan and surviving the fire. Mean anything to you?” By the familiar, fake-blithe tone of his voice, it’s clear that the mad genius knows perfectly well what the code referred to. Michael forces himself to merely shrug even as he finally feels his muscles uncoil and the sharp band of anxiety that had been tightening around his chest all night loosen.

“Nah. Probably just some spam, you know how it goes. Geoff needs to bitch at the phone company again because that fucking ‘Do Not Call’ list is bullshit and how the hell are people getting the number for here anyway?” There’s a flash of white teeth as the former Georgian grins briefly, and Ray grunts between them.

“Would you two shut up? Some of us are trying to get some sleep.” Michael chuckles quietly and gives the younger man a squeeze, his own eyes finally drooping.

“We both know you need all the beauty rest you can get, man.” The pinch he receives at the flesh over his hip merely draws more snickers from him, heart far lighter.

\-------

"Whatcha sketching?" Jack glances over her shoulder briefly, smothering a smile at the sight of Geoff hovering near the rooftop door looking nervous and sheepish, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his 'off duty don't fuck with me' sweatpants and scuffing the toe of his well-worn slippers against the gravel. She curls her legs further up to bring her sketchpad closer to her face, dragging the charcoal across the paper in graceful strokes with only the city around her and the full moon above to light her way.

“Gav parachuting down to the airfield with the ‘bob exploding behind him sparked me earlier. I just wanted to get a rough outline down but, well, the stick got away from me…” There’s no further response from Geoff, so the redhead loses herself in the smooth glide of art creating itself from her fingertips, the familiar figure of the young Brit taking shape against the chaotic cloud of fire and smoke and chopper parts. A quiet 'ahem' breaks her concentration once more and she finally pats the rooftop next to her in invitation, heaving a slightly impatient sigh. Stones clatter together as her oldest companion crosses to join her with haste, almost as if he expects her to send him away.

"It's been a while. I've missed watching you work." Jack cuts a sideways glance at him, taking in his forced-relaxed posture: legs splayed out toward the edge of the roof, body tipped back slightly to prop his weight on his palms behind him, head lolling backwards so he can stare up at the sky. Her fingertips buzz with the familiar sensation of inspiration, and before the signal has made the full circuit to her brain and back down to her hands, she's flipping the page and getting down a quick sketch of the man beside her.

"The past couple months have been busy- haven't had much time to sit in silence with my own head, let alone sketch. I didn't realize how much I was itching for it until earlier when we were halfway through eating dinner together for the first time since March. Were the lads pissed off that they got left with dish duty?" Geoff snorts inelegantly, bringing a smile to the woman's face.

"You couldn't hear Gavvers bitching from up here? I figured even Dan the Man was probably hearing him from the desert. Ryan is standing guard over the Xbox until they're done and both Michael and Ray threatened to throw the little twink out the window if they weren't playing Halo in ten minutes. Got his ass moving quick.” Laughing under her breath, Jack finishes up the set of lines she was working on and fully focuses on the rough drawing. An involuntarily affectionate smile tugs at her lips, gaze trailing over the image of the man who is almost as familiar to both her eyes and her hands as her own body, and she ghosts a fingertip along the lines making up the profile of his face.

She jumps slightly when a pair of arms curls around her waist and a mustachioed face tucks into the crook of her neck, charcoal-stained fingers reaching up to brush the flesh-and-blood version of the jaw she’d just drawn. “Geoff?”

“I’m sorry for earlier, baby.” Earlier being the moment during the heist where they all thought they’d lost their leader, the man suddenly dropping out of contact after a flurry of gunshots came through everyone’s earpieces. He had been separated from the rest of the crew and unsurprisingly his phone was once again dead; only when he rolled into the safe house three hours late with Chinese did they get confirmation that he was alive and well. Jack does her best to hold onto the faint anger still lingering, but can’t resist the contrite tone of her lover’s voice and the rough lips brushing so tenderly against her skin.

“I am going to start shoving a spare battery up your ass if you keep letting your phone run all the way down before a heist, bastard. You scared the shit out of me- out of all of us. Our boys were a wreck.” She lets that sink in, feeling Geoff squirm guiltily against her side for a moment, then tilts her head to press a hard kiss to his forehead. "I’m just glad you’re okay. The crew would fall apart if anything happened to you. _I_ would fall apart if anything happened to you. I know we don’t live the safest lifestyle and I fucking love laughing in the face of death with our crew but if I were to lose any of you…” The woman’s voice dies in her throat as it knots with emotion, remaining painfully silent as her partner maneuvers them around. Only once Geoff is tucked up close behind her, legs bracketing hers and arms curled around her waist with his chin hooked over her shoulder, does she manage to relax again. “Sorry.”

“Shut up. Nothing to be sorry for, Jack. I promise I’ll be more careful. You’re stuck with me for a hell of a long time.” They sit quietly for a moment, the noises of the city starting to wind down their soundtrack, before Geoff gives the woman in his arms a squeeze and presses his mouth to her jaw. “Are you going to finish doing me or should we head downstairs so I can do you?” A choked giggle escapes her mouth as she tips her head to give him better access, shifting restlessly as a hand begins sliding up her thigh.

“The sketch is done for now, yes- I don’t think I’ve truly started doing you yet though…” The man’s smirk is nearly palpable, and they both scramble to their feet and toward the stairwell with a level of energy more fitting to their early years of partnership.

\-------

"So… now bloody what?” The words, spoken by Gavin through gritted teeth but being thought by all parties temporarily imprisoned on that rooftop, is met with tense silence. Geoff straightens from the low wall he was leaning against beside their resident sniper, taking in the situation with grave consideration. Ray remains crouched with an eye firmly at the sight of his rifle, picking off officers below with easy, deadly accuracy and barely phased by the boss’ pause in assistance. Ryan and Michael are stationed further back, surrounded by various explosives and firing a rocket and grenade launcher respectively, taking down the circling choppers before they can get close enough to do any serious damage. Jack and Gavin are sequestered in the only bit of major cover on the roof, tucked into the doorway of the stairwell as the woman quickly and carefully deals with the gashes in the Brit’s side and leg. The wounds were where he’d been sliced fairly deep by some shrapnel from a jet that had nosedived into the edge of their building after its pilot had been shredded by Michael’s mini gun, by far not the worst any of them had received but causing him to lose a worrying amount of blood. (Geoff was fairly certain that was the point the pyrotechnic duo switched to the ‘big guns’, keeping aircraft as far away from their battlefield as possible.)

“G and her girls won’t be able to get anywhere near the building like this, man, and they don’t have access to aircraft like we do so they can’t parachute in. Not like that would really be safe to do either…” The Puerto Rican mutters the last part under his breath, almost too quiet for even Geoff to hear less than a foot away, as there’s a dual explosion above them. Fiery balls of mangled helicopters crash to the street below, giving them a brief reprieve as the LSPD below scatters away from the wreckage and other aircraft back away to regroup.

“Did we even hear back from the Athena crew after our shitty prep meeting? Those bitches were supposed to be here at the same damn time as us because of this _exact fucking situation_  we’re in right now. _Fuck you, pigs, I dare you to come back in range_.” Michael’s furious shout barely cuts through the sound of his latest grenade exploding midair, showering them with little sparks of fire and shards of hot plastic.

“ _Michael_ , be careful! You’ve got a minefield of gubs that go boom around you and Rye-bread- one bad spark and we’re going to have bigger problems than the feds.” All Gavin receives in response to his worried call is a brief flip of the bird before a jet explodes violently over the building across the street, the redhead whooping victoriously.

“We can’t stay on this roof forever, Geoff.”

“We’re going to run out of ammo eventually.”

His fellow ‘gents’ talk over each other and the eldest rubs a hand roughly over his face, unconcerned by his now-askew mustache. “Thank you both, I wasn’t aware of either of those things. How about instead of stating the obvious fact that we’re fucked right now we try and come up with some brilliant as dicks idea to get us the fuck out of here.” Geoff's phone abruptly starts ringing and there’s a harmony of five angry growls of ‘ _not now asshole_ ’ across the rooftop. Ignoring them all, the boss pulls it out and mutters an involuntary prayer before answering when he spots the number. “You’d better have some fucking great news for me, Cockbite, because I don’t have time for a recreational call.” There’s a snort from the other end of the line.

“Let your boys know that they’re going to have an Annihilator coming at them from the north with the Rooster painted on the front and if they shoot it out of the sky, I’m going to come and kill you all myself. It should be on your horizon now.” He heaves an instinctual sigh of relief, hanging up and spinning toward the north, grateful to spy a familiar helicopter with the telltale splash of red across the nose.

“Alright, dickholes, one of Burns’ whirly-birds is flying in from Chiliad for an air evac- please for the love of Christ don’t blow it up. Clear the sky as much as possible and get ready to bolt so we can get into the sky fast. Jack and Gav in first- Ryan and Michael take primary flank positions so you can keep the heat off our asses. I’ll jump in shotty to man the gunner, and Ray? Shoot what you can without falling out this time, huh? We won’t have time to swing around and try to grab you before their choppers find you.” The sniper gives a sarcastic salute as he swings around to take aim at a pilot who had flown daringly close. Geoff turns his focus to his lady and Brit, pleased that the pair is on their feet even if Gavin is worryingly pale under his natural tan.

“Make sure you grab anything you’re attached to, assholes- we’re going to blow this joint after we’re in the sky. Provide a little distraction.” Michael calls out as their escape vehicle nears, shoving a few handfuls of explosives and tech scattered around his feet into both his and Ryan’s packs between shots. The masked man himself is pouring loops of gasoline out of Gavin’s jerry can over and around the roof, dousing the remaining pile of incendiaries as well once his partner-in-combustibles moves join his boi.

The helicopter sends up a spray of rocks when it skid-lands, and Geoff spares a fleeting thought of pride as his crew bolts into action before the dust even begins to clear. Jack and Michael help fling their injured comrade into the hollow body of the Annihilator and vault in themselves, Ryan hopping in on the far side. Geoff swings himself up into the copilot position, shoving his sniper rifle into the space between the seats so he can get his hands on the machine gun stand between his knees. A sharp call of their youngest's name from Ryan as the rotors start up above their heads sends the boss twisting around in his seat, frowning deeply. Ray is still on the far side of the roof, flinging grenades over the edge into the crowd of police below. He pivots after a moment and hightails it across the roof toward the hovering aircraft, reaching for and grabbing Ryan's hand to be hauled up inside. His grumble of pain at the rough treatment is a relief, and Geoff turns back to the gun as the blond shoves his mask up just enough to slant a fierce kiss across the smaller man's mouth.

"Let's get the hell out of here."

\-------

They've all barely crossed over the threshold into the safe house before Ryan and Ray disappear toward the bedrooms, the hand curled tightly around the younger man's wrist and the fact that they hadn't stopped necking the entire drive home making it clear what they were heading to do i.e. each other. Not that Gavin can blame them, really. It had been a bloody intense heist (literally bloody as well) and he knows how much those affected their little R&R Connection- Ryan getting turned on by the violence and chaos, Ray just aroused by the sight of his lover thriving in his element.

He could go for a roll-about himself, if only to count heartbeats and bruises and burns, and to confirm to his adrenaline-soaked brain that everyone was safe and sound. His three significant others clearly had other plans, however. Michael and Jack dump their haul out on the table in the living room, pressed hip-to-hip and shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch as they sort money and other goods into six piles. Gavin knows better than to offer assistance- even if it wasn't their 'thing' after every success, he was the worst with that kind of stuff. Give him a computer or a camera or security system to hack any day; he'd knock out whatever you needed in no time. But for some reason keeping track of an even-split take baffled him to no end, a fact that he'd been teased about plenty of times but that no one seriously judged him for, just like the rest of his quirks and mannerisms. That was just one of the million reasons why his crew was bloody top- everyone had their strengths and weaknesses and were considered a valuable part of the group no matter what contributions they had to offer. Back home before he found his way to Los Santos, he-

"-vvers. Gavvers. Gavin. Gav. Birdbrain. Gavin." The Brit shakes his head to clear it before focusing on the man in front of him, giving him a wide grin.

"Sorry, Geoff, was just thinking a bit." Forever-sleepy grey eyes are soft and warm with affection (' _someone popped open the bevs already'_ ), and the boss ruffles up his already messy hair with a smile, a gesture Gavin automatically nudges up into with a happy hum.

"Don't get lost in there, Gavino, we'd miss you too much. Wanna go up top and get blind drunk?" There's a snort from the couch and they both glance over at Michael, who has his arms stretched out along the back of the seat and his head tipped back to look at them upside-down. "What's funny, brat?"

"The two of you are going to go up there, get bevved off your asses, nearly fall off when you try to climb back down, and then you'll either just sleep up there and freeze and get sick or whine long enough for Jackie-girl and I to come rescue you dumb fucks. Make sure you have a damn cell phone that works so you don't have to shout down at us- I have a feeling Rye-bread wouldn't appreciate being woken up by you two like that.” Geoff lets loose one of his giddy giggles that always show up when he’s tipsy, hooking his arms around Gavin’s waist and tugging him non-too-subtly toward the kitchen.

“Then you’ll just have to move fast and protect us, squirt! You know where we’ll be if you need us~!” Michael rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to the money and the redhead at his side, then startles as two pairs of lips press to his cheeks. He twists around to gaze after giggling and retreating duo, skin pinkening involuntarily as an affectionate smile tugs at his lips. Beside him Jack attempts to smother laughter, a feat that becomes impossible when her partner begins tickling her sides. Dividing their take is quickly forgotten.

Up on the rooftop, Gavin forces himself under the elder’s arm to tuck against his side, stealing the bottle of good whisky Geoff is taking swings of. “I was drinking that, twink. Rude.” The Brit snickers and drags his alcohol-slick lips along the other man’s throat, thoroughly enjoying the unrestrained shiver he receives in response.

“We came up here to get drunk and snog, didn’t we? Gotta share the goods, Geoff’y, ‘r else you’re getting smashed on your lonesome and I’m stone-cold sad. ’n sober. ’n not getting mustache-y smooches. Gotta _share_.” Geoff grunts noncommittally and snatches the booze back, tossing back a healthy swallow before setting it aside. Before his fuzzy mind can fully process what’s going on, Gavin finds himself flat on his back with his boss straddling his body on hands and knees, the smirk on the other man’s face sending delicious bolts of arousal through his veins.

“Can’t have you sad, sober, or smoochless, now can we?”

\-------

Once again, they find themselves sprawled together on the rooftop, a cigarette making its typical rounds as Ryan quietly explains some of the mythology behind the constellations and rubs burn cream into the tender skin of his arms and hands. Ray is carefully balancing an icepack on his swollen ankle, Jack stitches up a gash creating a jagged line across Michael’s shoulder blade, Geoff nurses a tumbler of some unknown liquor while keeping the sling cradling his broken arm close to his chest, and Gavin struggles to not doze off as his head throbs with a possible concussion. Regardless of all this, the entire crew is in high spirits, the knowledge of the new section of the city that now belonged to them buzzing at the backs of their minds.

They may not know if they’ll live to see another sunrise every time they walk out of their front door, but here above their ‘kingdom’ they’re invincible.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. All feedback is greatly appreciated!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr for updates, behind-the-scenes thoughts, and randomness:  
> donotjustlive-fly.tumblr.com


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